


Alternate Aldnoah

by icinks



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble Collection, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Warnings May Change, crack-ish at times, maybe ship-teasing, my apologies in advance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:53:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icinks/pseuds/icinks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of AU drabbles... anything from tears to nonsense, probably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternate Aldnoah

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not very good at writing shorter stories, so... here is my attempt at drabble/oneshot practice while getting some of these AUs out of my system at the same time.

Slaine made his way down the narrow aircraft aisle, his eyes diligently completing the passenger and seatbelt check before takeoff.

"Sir, if you could please buckle-" he stopped short as he realized the man was asleep. Dark brown hair shrouded the face that dipped forward, chin resting on a patterned orange necktie. Ah. "Sir…" he said louder this time, before resorting to gently rousing him with a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but I need to ask you to secure your seatbelt for takeoff…"

Two sleepy maroon eyes blinked up at him, and stared for so long in mystified silence that Slaine thought maybe the man hadn't understood. "Your seat belt, sir…" he repeated quietly, as they were beginning to attract attention. This time his words were successful, and after giving a light tug to the tail of the belt to make sure it was snug and secure across the other's lap, he continued on down the aisle.

It would have been nice if that was the only troublesome interaction with that person, but from then on out, for the duration of the nine-hour transpacific flight, he was answering the call button from seat 11B on an average of once nearly every half hour.

"I'd like another serving of breakfast." ("I apologize, but we're unable to serve seconds.") "Can you refill my orange juice?" ("Sure thing, just a moment.") "I'd like to take a look at the duty free catalogue." ("Ah, you can find that in your seat back pocket, sir.") "Is there a map of the airport terminals, I want to check my connection." ( _We don't land for over six hours, why do you need this right now._ "Oh, that's in your seat back pocket, sir.") "I didn't receive a pair of headphones." ( _Oh my god, actually look in your seat back pocket, I'm begging you._ "I placed one in your seat back pocket while you were sleeping, sir. I apologize for the inconvenience.") "I think I missed the safety demonstration, could you repeat it?" ( _Seriously? It's been like seven hours and now you care?_ "The full demonstration is illustrated in the card in your seat back pocket, sir. Please feel free to ask any questions."  _If you actually ask a question I swear I'll throw you out the emergency exit..._ ) "Is there milk, rather than cream, available for my coffee?" ( _What the hell is wrong with cream?_ "I'm sorry, but no, sir, we only carry individually packaged creamers on this flight.")

Of course once it got out amongst the other attendants that there was a difficult person on his row, no one would swap with him. And if he wanted to keep his job, which he very much did, he needed to remain polite and helpful at all times. It was just nine hours… nine hours... nine… long… hours...

About an hour before the estimated landing time, he trudged back down towards the tiny glowing light above seat 11B. Putting on the most cheerful expression he could muster after nearly an entire overseas shift on his feet, serving passengers food and drinks and cleaning up spills and trash and passing out customs forms and telling at least twenty people that no, he did not have a spare pen, he approached the familiar seat and, placing one hand on the chair back, bent down with a smile. "Are you in need of something, sir?" he inquired with due civility.

The man was leaning forward, arms and head resting on his tray-table, and at hearing a voice, he opened his eyes and turned slightly to look up at Slaine.

"Are you alright?" Slaine asked, with genuine concern in spite of himself, since the man was looking quite unwell.

He received only a sleepy nod in response. Well? Then what had he pressed the button for… "Was there something you needed?"

"Um…" he seemed to actually be debating asking, for once, but eventually came out with it anyway- "do you have any ibuprofen?"

A headache? Finally, a legitimate reason to call him over, and of course he didn't have any to offer. Before answering no, however, he thought of whether he could somehow acquire some. Ah yes, he knew a coworker who might have it.

"I'll go see what I can find."

After asking around in the back for several minutes, eventually he managed to obtain two caplets and hurried back to seat 11B, where the man seemed to be languishing even more than before. What a time and place to get a headache. Part of him didn't want to revive the cause of his own misery on this flight, but he handed over the medication anyway.

"Let me know if you need anything else, alright?" he said kindly, feeling his soul wither behind the iron fortitude of his undying professional smile.

The button was not pressed again, even a single time, and Slaine wasn't sure whether to be more surprised at the lack of pestering, or at his own strange sense of disappointment. He found himself wandering through the aisle to casually make sure that person was actually alright. To his relief, the tray-table was still occupied by sweatered arms and a resting head, eyes closed in what at least seemed to be peaceful slumber. It was almost painful to have to wake him up for landing, since the tray-table had to be stowed. Really, he shouldn't be sleeping on it at all, since they weren't meant to bear much weight, but the man didn't seem heavy enough to break it very easily anyway.

As the passengers began exiting the plane, Slaine set about cleaning up, grateful that it wasn't his job to stand and say farewell and thank you to each person who left. Usually he enjoyed the interaction, but today he was too burnt out. And all from a single passenger. He glanced around the cabin before entering, just to make sure the man was actually gone, and then set about picking up and preparing the plane for the next flight. When eventually he reached 11B, he found it spotless, except for one piece of paper on the seat, which he nearly threw away before catching a glimpse of writing on the back of it. Slaine turned it over.

Penned in a neat hand was a phone number and a name.


End file.
